


Do things to my heart

by junebug1234



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 12:43:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4920040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junebug1234/pseuds/junebug1234
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Brent isn't really sure what he wants and he doesn't really think that Jonny knows what he wants, and Duncs thinks they're both idiots because he knows what they both want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do things to my heart

  1.                 Brent



 

Brent remembers some things really clearly. Jonny’s weird face at the convention after being named captain is one of those memories that sticks out in his mind. Brent thinks it’s because Jonny knows he’s proved to the team that he can be captain – that he’s fine with that, but Brent figures that was just Jonny having one of his moments of desperate courage and confidence.

 

Now, that confidence seems a bit less convincing than it was when he was originally asked. By the look Jonny gives Seabs, the kid probably doesn’t think he can do it after all. The task doesn’t seem like a big deal when you aren’t doing it, but now Jonny is rubbing his pants like Brent knows he does when his palms are sweaty, and he seems more nervous than he did in his first NHL game.  

 

Jonny rubs his palms together and lets out a shuddering breath. Brent’s gaze locks with Jonny’s from across the room. He tries to project the confidence he has in his rookie, always his rookie, through the little smile he sends Jonny but he doesn’t speak up. This is Jon’s moment, Jon’s chance to establish the tone of the following year. But…that doesn’t mean he can’t send a little reassurance. Sure enough, Jonny’s lips quirk back at him, and his face settles into one of surety and earnestness. Jon turns, the message in the smile he sent Brent still lingering even as he addresses the rest of the guys.

 

They can do this.

_____________________________________

 

They can’t do this.

 

Or, at least, Jonny seems to be thinking _he_ can’t. Brent knows that the kid is stressing himself over the fact that, well, they haven’t really improved that much since last year. They should be doing better, and sure, they’ve won a couple games, but they’ve lost more than that. Burish looks furious with himself over a missed shot, and Brent sees Jon leaning into him a bit while they undress.

 

Brent focuses on pulling off the tape around his socks, but can hear every word clearly.

 

“Hey,” Jonny murmurs, “don’t put this on you.” Adam looks at him levelly, rage still swirling in the depths. “I’m serious, Bur. We’re a team here. Yeah, you missed a great opportunity, but you won’t next time. And we win or lose as a team. Be upset we lost, sure, but don’t be mad at yourself.”

 

Burish’s shoulders relax. His lips are probably in a wry grin at this point, but Brent just studiously balls up the tape from around his legs.

 

“You going to take your own advice, kid?” Burish asks, humour sparkling where anger had been before.

 

Jonny grins, but just tilts his head. “You stink man, get into the shower.”

 

Brent glances up at this, watches Burish walk off, back to joking around with the guys, the suffocating tension already dissolved.

 

Brent feels irritation well up in him. It isn’t Adam’s fault, but he should have seen the deflection for what it is, should have seen that Jonny was struggling just as much as anyone on this team, but taking it harder. The kid beat himself up more than anyone else, but Burish just walked away, satisfied with his own performance.

 

Brent felt his eyes narrow a bit as he stared at Jon. The kid was putting on a good front, but not good enough to fool him. Not after he lived with him. Jonny looks up and meets Brent’s eyes, frowning when he doesn’t say anything. Brent forces himself to relax. Jon doesn’t need Brent’s irritation in his teammates to be added to his stress. Jonny stares at him for a couple more seconds, but politely ignores the dark look from before and goes back to gazing at the floor.

Jon is staring at the floor again. Brent watches him while he unwraps the tape from his socks. He had been one of the stars of the game tonight, and had to wait behind while everyone else got a head start in cleaning.

 

“Is he okay?” Duncs nudges him.

 

Brent shrugs. “I don’t know. He hasn’t scored yet, I know he’s beating himself up for it.”

 

“That’s stupid.” Duncan snorts. Brent grins at his friend. He knows it’s dumb. This entire team looks at Jonny and sees someone more committed to the game and to his team than anyone else. It’s why he’s captain. But Jon can’t see that about himself.

 

“I’ll take care of it,” Brent finds himself saying. Duncs just looks at him. Brent hates how he’s made such good friends with this guy. Before Duncs, he could hide what he was thinking and feeling behind a mask of indifference, but Duncan can read the worry in his eyes as easily as if he was shouting his feelings at him.

 

“Right.” Duncan says finally. “Don’t forget to take care of yourself though too.” Brent scoffs.

 

“I always take care of myself.”

 

Duncan doesn’t say anything, but slips off to the showers. Brent watches Jonny.

“Hey,” he interrupts what surely is a deluge of self-deprecation in Jonathan’s head. Jon startles, jumping a little in his seat, and looks up. When he sees Seabs, Brent feels his stomach twist with -- something -- as a beaming smile seems to appear effortessly on Jonny’s face.

“Hey.”

 

“You’re coming to my house tonight.” Brent tells him, watching his face carefully.  

 

Jonathan sighs, smile fading. “Look, Brent –”

 

“Look, Jonny.” Brent imitated, stopping himself from grinning at the irritation that has cropped up on Jonny’s face. “It wasn’t an invitation, okay? It was more of a demand.”

 

Jonathan’s face twists in something like part relief, part frustration. Brent can’t help but soften a bit at the grumpy part of Jonny coming through. “It’s not anything, Jonny,” he says, aware entirely too fond of the kid when he adds, “I’m allowed to miss my rookie, aren’t I?”

 

Jonny ducks his head like he’s shy, but he shows up that night, rumpled and damp from the shower. Brent takes him into his arms as soon as he’s through the door, and feels Jonny just collapse into him. His shaking hands are gripping Brent’s shirt like a lifeline, knuckles white as they press into Brent’s side, as if reassuring Jon he’s real, he’s there.

 

Little huffs of breath tickle his neck, and his face is hidden from Brent completely. He knows that this is _so_ not the time, but he feels a little glow of satisfaction. This Jonny, this isn’t a guy other people get to see.

 

Jon always tries to help everyone else, anyone from the coaches and the oldest players, to the newest guys trying to figure their way around the league. And he’s still a kid himself. Jon helps everyone, including Brent. Brent doesn’t think he’s had a season before this one where he’s felt like the anxiety from his superstitions isn’t weighing him down, where he doesn’t _have_ to do things, he just chooses to. As much as Jonny helps everyone around him, buoys them up when they feel weighed down, and encourages them when no one else would notice they’re dropping behind, Jonny doesn’t let anyone do that for him. No one except Brent.

 

It’s a warm feeling, to have someone trust you enough to let you look at the foundation of who they are, at what goes on behind the dark eyes that are always so sure and so confident.

 

“Hey, Jonny.” Brent murmurs. He feels himself rocking back and forth slightly, rubbing a soothing hand over the expanse of Jonathan’s back. He thinks about what this would look like to other people – he wouldn’t do it for anyone else. He would feel stupid. Brent startles when he feels something wet on the side of his neck.

 

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Brent pulls back to see the tears welling in Jonathan’s eyes. He panics slightly. He hadn’t been expecting waterworks when he invited Jon over.7

 

“I can’t do this, _fuck_ , I can’t.” Jon was wringing his hands. Brent shoves him down onto the sofa. The moon shines out over Chicago, and Brent stares at it instead of looking where Jonathan is.

 

“Why?” he asks.

 

Jonathan breaths in a shuddering breath. “You guys don’t need a captain, fuck, have you seen Duncs and Sharpy? They do more than me with the team. I can’t be a captain, I can’t even score a fucking goal. People keep looking at me like I have the answers, like I know what to say, and I don’t! It’s my second fucking year!”

 

“Shut up.” Brent says fiercely. Jonny looks startled. “Shut _up_ Jonny, you’re what we need. People aren’t looking for more than you’re giving. Sure, score a couple goals. Think about that. Last year you just went out and played your best, yeah?”

 

Jonathan nods. “Well, that’s what you have to do this year. You said you can’t be captain if you can’t even do what you’re telling others they have to? So stop thinking about them for a bit. Think about yourself, think about scoring goals.”

 

“I can’t just turn off trying to help my teammates, Brent,” Jonny said.

 

“I’m not saying you have to,” Brent snaps. “I’m saying make it less of a priority right now. The best thing for this team is if you’re on the top of your game or not. So what are you thinking about?”

 

“Scoring goals?”

And he does, the next game.

 

Afterwards, he corners Brent and hugs him. Brent ignores the sweat from the body clinging to him, and hugs back, resting his head on damp hair.

 

“I fucking knew you could do it,” he says, and Jonny smiles a smile at him he hasn’t seen since the summer.

 

Brent ignores Duncs pointed look at he goes into the shower.

 

___________________________________________________________

Jonny finally being semi relaxed again has a trickle effect through the team. He stops trying to be someone he isn’t, and just tries to learn based on who he is. Brent waits to drive him home while he has a long talk to Quenneville after Savard is fired. He knows that McDonough and Rocky are doing what they think is right for the team, but Savvy was a good guy. Brent feels irritation and anger tug at him when he thinks of Savvy being dropped like he was.

 

Jon comes out looking restless, but happy.

 

Brent automatically pulls him into his arms, feeling a warm glow of satisfaction when Jonny rests his head on his shoulder.

 

“Q’s going to be good for us,” Jonny murmurs into Brent’s neck. “He seems like he’s got a lot to teach, and there’s a lot we’re going to learn.” Brent nods.

 

“You like him?” he asks.

 

Jonny sucks in the corner of the mouth like he does when he’s thinking, and nods.

“Yeah, I think I do.”

 

Brent nods again. “Great, then Coach Q it is.” The anger of Savvy’s firing disappears without him noticing, being replaced with eager anticipation.

 

 

 

They’re out at a bar, Jonny and Patrick being laughed at because, despite their rising fame, they’re still not old enough to drink in America. Jonny is nursing a coke, laughing at something Burish is saying while Campbell slams into Brent and weaves arms around his waist.

 

“What the fuck, get off me.” Brent snaps. Campbell sighs and steps back, but a smile is still on his face.

 

“Sorry man,” he said. His eyes seem more sober than the rest of him. They flicker over to the table when most of the team is at, for some reason. Duncan is standing next to Brent quietly, but now shouts at Brian to follow them back to the table. Brent slides in the booth next to Jonathan, who is talking to Patrick about something eagerly.

 

They looked like happy puppies, Brent thought. Jon turns when he feels Brent. His eyes light up, happy.

 

He looks drunker than someone only drinking coke should be. “Sharpy slipping you stuff?” Brent asks, eyebrow raised. Jon just beams at him.

 

“A lot,” Sharpy laughs. “Abby didn’t want me to drink tonight, so we’re just switching.” Brent’s other eyebrow climbs up to meet the first. Sharpy’s ordered a lot of drinks. Brent doesn’t say anything though. Not even when Jon leans into his side. He just raises his arm so his rookie can fit more comfortable, and ignores Campbell’s disbelieving stare and Duncan’s calculating gaze.

 

As the night wears on, Jon stops drinking as much, and finally grabs a taxi to get home and sleep it off. Most of the guys stay longer, and Brent finds himself getting short with everyone who had been indulging Tazer and Kaner by buying them drinks.

 

“Lighten up dude, Tazer’s legal in Canada anyway, I don’t know what the problem is.” Sharpy finally says, sighing.

 

Brent grips his beer.

 

“I just don’t want him to fuck up,” Brent says finally. It was all he could put into words, he didn’t really understand himself why he was so upset. Sharpy’s eyes are searching, but he relaxs a bit.

 

“Look, he’s not living with you anymore, you don’t have that responsibility.” Sharpy said.

 

“I guess I’m just a bit a protective, you know, face of the franchise and all.” Brent said weakly. Even he could tell his explanation didn’t fool Sharpy, but luckily Patrick let it slide by announcing loudly he had to get home.

 

Brent just stares at his beer.

 

“So,” Duncan said slowly.

 

Brent turns to him. They’re at his house, watching something stupid on tv.

 

“So?”

 

“How long have you been in love with our captain?”

 

Brent spits out his mouthful of beer.

 

“ _What?”_ He splutters, choking a bit. Duncan’s just grinning, bastard that he is.

 

“Look, not many people know you as well as I do, but they’re catching on. You’re not really subtle, Seabsie.”

 

Brent takes a deep breath. All the emotions -- the weird fluttering in his stomach when Jon smiles, the overprotectiveness he’s been trying to brush off, the weird irritation he gets when Jon ignores him to talk to someone else (even though he’s been a social guy since day one) --everything proves Duncs is right, that Brent finally has a name for what he’s been feeling.

 

“I dunno,” he said softly. “I dunno.”

 

________________________________

 II. Duncs

 

From an outsider's perspective, Duncan thinks they’re both blatantly obvious. But, he concedes that he’s the person on the team who knew both Brent and Jonny best besides, well, each other. And maybe that means he saw things before other people.

 

On the other hand, the locker room was full of idiots. Duncan is partial to either theory. It hadn’t been much at first. Not really. In Jonny’s rookie year, the kid was frantically trying to figure out what it meant to be an NHL player, and hardly had the time to worry about much else. But Duncs figured that was when Seabs’s strange protective instincts kicked in. Brent had wanted the kid on the team before he was even drafted, and then had quickly offered his room up when Jon’s parents were expressing their distaste for Jonathan living alone.

 

Things just progressed from there. Duncs saw as Brent bent all his rules for his rookie. Seabrook wasn’t a touchy feely guy, not by any means. He would pat his hand roughly on the helmet of his teammates, but his encouragement was usually more vocal than physical. So when Jonny, probably one of the touchiest guys Duncan had ever met, grabbed Seabs in a hug, Duncan expected him to be pushed away like everyone else was. Instead, Brent laughed, his eyes crinkling up properly, and tugged Jon just that bit closer.

 

Duncan was also thrown by how easily Brent smiled around Jonny. He remembered watching an interview where Brent was asked about Kane and Toews, the dynamic duo. Brent’s face had dissolved into a fond smile, and Duncan was confused by the easy affection practically beaming on his face. At the same time, he knew that the look wasn’t for Kaner.

 

And Jonny was hopeless as well. His dark eyes would track Brent’s movements, and his smaller frame would always find him tucked up next to Brent at the bar. And Brent was the only one who could pull Jonny out of an increasingly negative headspace.

 

And yet, Duncs had thought it was probably just a rookie/mentor thing. Sure, Brent took to Jonny quicker than he had to any rookie before, but living together would do that for you.

 

It wasn’t until Jon became captain and proceeded to think he was what was wrong with the team that Duncan figured it out -- that the soft looks from Brent wasn’t a mentor showing his fond exasperation, it was a look of someone who wanted the world for the person he was staring at. Figured out that when the other teams targeted Jonny, and they _did_ , because he was a star, and he was their captain, that Brent would have shaken the gloves a little further down his wrist, ready for a fight. Figured out that his fights would carry that extra heat if it was Jonathan walking back to the locker room after a hit.

 

It was how Jon instinctively looked for Brent after a game, good or bad. How Jonny never really seemed relaxed unless Brent was standing near him. It was how he always, without fail, took his seat on the plane next to Brent, and spent a least one night a week at his house, even though they didn’t live with each other anymore.

 

So, Duncan figured it out, but he knew that neither of the idiots he loved like they were his brother would get it. Because they were oblivious, for one, but also they wouldn’t want to rock the status quo, wouldn’t want to disturb the weird line they had drawn in the sand.

 

______________________________

 

III. Olympics

 

Duncs grins as Sidney dogs the steps of their coach, questions flying from his mouth. He catches Jonny’s eye, and the kid grins at him, brown eyes knowing. Brent snorted quietly at the exchange, but it grabs the attention of Rick Nash. Nash arches a brow at Brent who was ignoring him and having a conversation with Jonny with only his face. Duncs barks out a laugh when Seabs pulls an especially strange expression causing Jonny to choke on his laughter.

 

Most of the team was watching them now, amusement in their expressions. They all like the Chicago guys, it was true, but this was the first real practise with them, and apparently the poor showing of their team in the decade previous, but the buzz that came with the new core, was enough to have them expect good things from the three that came, but not _that_ good.

 

Duncs also knew Jon was watching the leaders of the room with dark eyes, while they were side eyeing him, trying to figure out what a 19 year old had that was such good leadership quality they made him captain.

 

Duncs is thankful he had been to Vancouver before this, that most of them had, because all the Olympians from different countries were staring around them in emotions that ranged from awestruck to completely confused. Duncs is just happy that he didn’t feel like he’s missing anything. Happy he can focus on the hockey they are here to play instead of trying to squeeze multiple new experiences in before they headed home, with a medal hopefully hung around their necks.

 

The locker room was a little awkward at first, especially coming off fresh losses or wins, and having new captains and a completely new dynamic. It quickly faded when chatter started, a reminder that all the guys knew each other, and the unspoken agreement that the Olympics would have to unify them, NHL rivalries left behind them. For now.

 

Sidney was obviously chatty, speaking to the coaches and the captains, asking questions and already throwing himself into his role, but Duncs didn’t think Jonny had spoken at all in a group setting yet.

 

But here he was, a smile on his face, lacing up his skates as he stood up ready to go. Brent raises his eyebrows and Jonny nods, the two grabbing their sticks from the hall and heading on to the ice.

 

“Practise isn’t starting yet,” Iginla said, voice mild. Duncs shrugged.

 

“Jonny likes to practise defense with Brent before he goes through offense drills in practise sometimes.” Duncs replies, voice just as even. “They like getting the perspective of each other.”

 

Jonny still barely talks as the games start, runs through his drills, obviously slightly bored as the extra skater, but not once complaining. Duncs can see Pronger watching Jonny carefully as he plays keep away in the corner with Brent, bumping into Duncs when they got too close. Duncan pushes him off playfully, and Jonny ducks his head, happy flush on his face.

 

“Toews!” Babcock barks. The kid moves forward for the drill, a look of concentration already settled into the lines of his face. Duncs bumps Brent softly.

 

“He’s gonna be fine,” Duncan says quietly. Brent shrugs.

 

“I don’t doubt he will, but you know Jon, he’s going to be doing whatever it takes to help this team win.”

 

____________________________________

Duncan is laying back on Brent’s bed, Jonny next to him and Brent on the other side. Something plays on the TV, but Jonny is staring at the ceiling.

 

“You’ve done well,” Brent said softly.

 

“It’s crazy,” Jon gushes quietly. “I can’t believe I’m even here, with you two, I don’t deserve it.”

 

“Look at you,” Brent nudges Jon, and the kid turns a soft, adoring smile to Brent. Duncan feels awkward, like he shouldn’t be here. He stays quiet, eyes determinedly staring at the TV screen while Brent rests his hand on Jonny’s neck, cupping the back of his head. “You’re a superstar.”

 

They lay like that for a while, Brent’s hand resting on Jon’s head, stroking the short strands while Jon falls asleep, head turned towards Brent, soft breaths soothing them both.

 

“I can’t even believe we’re here,” Brent murmurs in the quiet of the room. Lights from the television flicker across their faces. “It’s so surreal.”

 

“Little Brent Seabrook, just wanted to play in the NHL. Never figured he’d be an Olympian.”

 

Brent grins at him. “It’s true though, isn’t it? I mean, we all aspired to be in the NHL, but the Olympics…it was like, another world for me. I never considered the fact that the players I saw growing up could be my best friend or myself. Did you?”

 

“No. I don’t think I ever thought I could be good enough,” Duncan replies. “I mean, we all wanted to be a star when we were younger, but…”

 

“It’s different when you’re older.”

 

“Yeah, when I grew up, I just wanted to be drafted, just wanted to play.” Duncan admits. “And you saw people you knew being skipped over, or guys you only heard about in the news go through and I didn’t think it would ever be me.”

 

Brent is quiet, before snorting.

 

“What?” Duncan asks, a grin already on his face.

 

“Just, look at us.” Brent laughs. Duncs waits, eyes fixed on where Brent’s hand is still carding through Jonny’s hair. Brent is smiling at the ceiling. “We’re watching a soap on television while talking about our dreams coming true, we’re going mad.”

 

“Nah,” Duncs says. “You’re just lying in one bed with two of your best friends, one whom you want to bone.”

 

Brent’s hand falters, and his face flushes, but he didn’t argue. He looks down at Jon, and like earlier, Duncan feels a flash of discomfort, a niggling feeling that he was intruding in some intimate moment. Jon looks more relaxed than Duncan has seen him in a while, but there was something new on Brent’s face Duncs hasn’t seen before.

 

“Haven’t told him yet?” Duncs asks, forcing the words out around the strange lump in his throat. Brent sighs.

 

“Shut up.”

 

Duncan just grins at him. It feels strained, and Brent notices judging by the odd look he sends him. Luckily, for once, Duncs figures, Jonathan is there to take Brent’s attention away from Duncan again as he shifts slightly in his sleep.

 

Brent shushes him, and Duncan rolls to his back, staring at the television. This isn’t some crush anymore, Duncan knows. He wishes Seabs had told him, but his face told him enough. The fond eyes as he tracks Jonny’s movements, and the entire softening of his frame when Jon grins at him is evidence enough that this is more to Brent. This was something like love.

_________________________

 

IV. Seabs

 

Jon is stirring the stir fry sauce into the rice half-heartedly. Brent is watching him head tilted to the side. It’s a little telling, how Jonny’s lips would twitch down.

 

“What’s up?” Brent finally said when the silence stretches a bit too long. Jonny shrugs. He sighs a little. Brent rolls his eyes. Sometimes getting this kid to speak was like pulling teeth, and Duncs had made him sit and listen to _that_ story for ages after the playoffs last year.

 

“Just, a lot of guys are gone,” Jonny said. “It’s weird.” Brent knows it must be more than that. Jon was a quiet guy, someone who is learning how to balance the scales between including everyone and still being able to be himself.

 

“Yeah, trades happen.” Brent said, brown eyes not moving off Jonny’s profile. “This year was bad, especially with how none of us saw it coming.”

 

“We were all just caught up on winning the cup,” Jonny said with a wry grin.

 

“And the gold medal.” Brent walks up behind Jonny and hugs him. He doesn’t let himself think what his teammates would say if they walked in on him hugging Jon from behind, his captain stirring food on the stove while leaning back up grinning up at Seabs.

 

“Yeah.” He still sounds a bit in awe.

 

“Look at you, Conn Smythe winner, Best Forward at the Olympics, you’re a legend Jonny.”

 

Jon laughs out loud. “Nah, just had good people to play with, didn’t I?” Brent lets him go and shakes his head fondly.

 

“Not in front of the press kid, don’t have to say that with me.”

 

“I mean it.” Jonny said sincerely. He switches off the stove and turns, brown eyes serious, face settled in the earnest expression that gained him the nickname he hates.

 

Jon puts his hand on Brent’s arm, his eyes flickering up and down. Brent’s mouth felt dry. “Couldn’t have done it without you Seabs.”

 

Brent felt bared open, like Jonny could find out all his secrets if he just looks hard enough.

 

“You know that right?” Jonny asks. Brent’s eyebrows furrow. “That we need you?” Jon asks. “That _I_ need you?”

 

“Jonny,” Brent breathes. The air feels charged around them.

 

“You know?” Jonny looks almost desperate.

 

“Yeah, I know, I need you too.”

 

“Gotta have a captain,” Jonny said wryly, lips twisting.

 

“Not just that.” Brent said, silencing Jonny. “Not just that Jon, I need you. You’re stupid healthy stirfries, bad jokes, your gardening habit…I need you as my…” He trails off. He can’t say friend. He hasn’t told Jonny yet how deep his feelings run, but he can’t lie to Jon, never could. Can’t pretend that he feels less than he did, can’t pretend Jonny doesn’t mean the world to him.

 

“I need you as my Jon.” he finishes.

 

Jon doesn't move, just keeps staring, but his expression is soft, and Brent is pretty sure that he’s smiling a little. Jon’s hand drops from his arm, and Brent wishes that the warmth was back, but then Jonny hesitantly grabs Brent’s hand, tangling their fingers together. Brent leans forward, resting his forehead on Jon’s, exhaling softly and closing his eyes.

 

This was where he could stay forever, he figures. This is almost better than hockey.

__________________________________

 

V. Duncs

 

It is obvious that something has changed. Duncan starts laughing as soon as he walks in the locker room, there was so much sexual tension, but no one else seems to really notice. Kaner took a double take, but doesn’t say anything, but Sharpy stops.

 

“What’s going on?” He said suspiciously.

 

One of the rookies looks so confused Duncs feels bad for him.

 

“What are you talking about?” Duncan asks casually. “Nothing has happened.”

 

“Something _has_ happened,” Sharpy said pointedly. “And I’m going to find out what.”

 

He storms to his stall. Duncan elbows Brent who is studiously looking at his skate laces. He grimaces, but nods. Duncs is practically skipping through practise, leaving Jonny gaping at him at one point, and Kaner in stitches at the terrified expressions of the new guys.

 

Duncs escapes Patrick’s sharp eyes by grabbing Brent and muttering something about lunch before they both speed walk out to the car.

 

“Spill,” Duncan said as soon as they are alone. He grins with delight as soon as a red flush spreads over Brent’s face.

 

“Nothing happened!” He said. Duncan raises his eyebrows. “Really!”

 

“But?”

 

Brent looks excited, his grin spreading across his face, but something shy and private held back.

 

“But…it will?” he said. Joy laces his tone, and Duncan laughs.

 

“I have never seen you like this, you are so gone for him.”

 

“Will it be okay?” Seabs said. “You know, with the team and whatnot?”

 

Keith shrugs. “Who cares? But, I think it will be. You guys are obsessed with each other anyway, and lets be real. You’ve been in love with the kid since you met him, not much is going to change.”

____________________________

 

VI. Seabs

 

It’s strange, at first, to try and work around keeping it quiet, keeping it between them, while they are so caught up in hockey. In the end, Brent backs off because while he can be there for Jonny, be there for the team, they can’t be together, working out the mess in their heads while they work through the mess that ends up being the 2010-2011 season.

 

Jonny is frustrated and tense and Brent is irritated and trying his hardest to be the fourth alternate. They have great leaders, but it’s pretty damn obvious that guys like Hossa and Kane, that while talented and willing to teach a bit, have limited patience with younger or less experienced teammates. Hossa is a great listener off the ice, but he gravitates towards his close friends, and Brent can see in the eyes of the new guys that someone like Jonny is someone they can talk to.

 

He figures it’s because Jonny feels as out of place as them sometimes. Not that Jon doesn’t have friends, or fit in, but it’s different. Patrick and Brent and Duncan have been on this team together, desperately trying to rake together something worthwhile before the wonderkids came. Hossa and most of the team are older, rookies are newer. Jonathan and Patrick have been thrust into positions of superstars, when they’re still in their own ways, kids desperately trying to find their place.

 

It’s easier for Kaner, because while he’s a star, he doesn’t have Jon’s accolades, and he’s doesn’t have the bright white ‘C’ on his chest.

 

So Jon ends up looking in from the outside in every way. He’s in meetings with the higher ups while the boys mess around. He’s arranging dinners and nights out as a team when he notices someone getting homesick on the road, but no one thinks to look after him. He’s younger with simultaneously more and less experience than every guy on the team. He’s a leader, but still desperately trying to learn and follow the lead of others.

 

He was, and still is not, anyone’s best friend, but he still remains the most important person in most of their lives. He’s close to lots of them, but even his A’s are each other’s best friend, and Seabs. Goalies pair off. Kaner hangs out with Bickell and guys who are a little less concerned about being proper, and Jonny and Kaner never really choose to hang out outside of all their promo, shared hotel rooms, being on a line together. Jonny and Kaner get tired of each other sometimes, and Brent can’t blame them for wanting a break from each other.

 

So Jonny watches the team, and loves them all, and they all love him, but it makes him good to talk to. Which is where it all starts.

 

Brent is bitter enough that they barely got to be with each other in the past year or so. Rushed handjobs, sloppy kisses, and hushed whispers at night weren’t enough. They still hang out, but Brent still has a weird feeling holding him back. While Jonny is so, so mature, so much older for his age than he should be, there are times when his mouth quirks at the corners, or he says something, something well-meaning but phrased like a youth who never knew hardships besides that which he made for himself. Doesn’t fully understand consequences because he was always a star, always a bright kid with a bright future.

 

There were times when Jonny would laugh at a stupid joke, and irritation would flash through Brent, wishing he would grow up.

 

So he shouts it at him one time.

 

In retrospect, the year of limbo, not knowing where they stood with each other, with no communication, probably added fuel to the fire.

 

And then he is in his kitchen, humming in his _voice_ , a tune that Brent couldn’t even recognize. He’s telling Brent something his buddies did this summer, some driving thing that Brent thought sounds immature, sounds like Jonny hadn’t left his youth behind yet. Sounds like someone Brent didn’t want to be with.

 

“Would you _grow up_?” Brent shouts. Jon freezes.

 

“What?”

 

“You heard me! You’re such a child sometimes! I don’t even know what you want from me, a blowjob? A good fuck? And then you’re on your way, pretending nothing ever happened! And then you never stop that bullshit the guys say in the locker room, literally the most homophobic shit. Does anyone even know you suck my dick on the regular? You literally pick and choose things to talk about, to make yourself seem like captain fucking perfect to the press, and you use me to get a good lay. Grow up Jon, start being a real captain instead of someone who plays pretend each day!”

 

Brent’s shoulders were heaving with his heavy breaths, and Jon’s mouth is open, his eyes huge.

 

A couple seconds passed, and then Jonny’s mouth snaps shut, his eyes growing hard. He turns off the oven.

 

“I can’t believe you thought any of that,” Jon said through gritted teeth. “Yeah, the guys spout some shit, Brent, and maybe I should stop it, but you could too. They look up to you to lead this team as well. And honestly, I let most of it pass because they’re fucking nervous, asshole.” Jon’s almost shouting now, his cheeks red and his eyes glassy. “Look at this roster, for fucks sake. Saader and Shaw are terrified they’re going to be sent down, Sharpy think’s he’s going to get traded soon, Dunc’s hates the himself after last season, they’re all stressed because it’s a new team, and if messing around and being assholes helps them let off some tension, then I’m not sure how that’s different from _literally every other team_.” Jon snarls.

 

“Relieving stress doesn’t have to be done like that –” Brent argues, voice as loud as Jonathan’s.

 

“Then fucking stop them! This isn’t all on me! Yeah, it’s important to be a good person, but this is a bunch of athletes trying to win a game, Brent, and that’s all it is at the end of the day. Most of them are going to be assholes!”

 

“You’re being an asshole by letting it happen!”

 

“Maybe I am,” Jon snaps, “but it wasn’t the most pressing concern on my mind at the moment. And fuck _you_ for thinking this – ” he gestures between them “- is my responsibility to define! I’ve actually tried to make time for you! It would have been nice to see the same!”

 

Great, Brent thinks furiously, hearing the hitch in Jonny’s voice.

 

“I fucking spend all my time with you!” Brent yells. “What more do you want?”

 

“Maybe some acknowledgement this is still something you want.” Jonny cries out. His eyes are wet. “I _know_ these past years have _sucked_ because nothing’s been worked out, but I’ve never even _looked_ at anyone else. I don’t know how you thought that I wasn’t anything but one hundred percent invested in making this, making _us_ , work!”

 

“Maybe because you spend all your time hanging around other people,” Brent snarls. “Going out in bars, you barely spend any time with _me_ , and I’m supposed to be the one you’re dating.”

 

“Sorry, is that what this is?” Jon snaps back. “I thought I was just using you for your dick. Besides Brent, you fucking _know_ how hard it is for me, I barely had friends my first season. Maybe if you weren’t so caught up in spending time with your _best friends_ we could have hung out more.” He’s breathing hard, eyelashes wet.

 

Brent doesn’t say anything, fury still sparking through his body, but a horrible, sickening feeling creeps over him.

 

“Jon,” he said haltingly.

 

“ _Don’t_. I just –” he blinks back more tears. “Figure out what you want okay? You want to come out to the world? Fine. You want to be just friends? Fine. I don’t care Brent, I don’t care about the rest of it, because all I care about is _you_.” Jon seems to shrink into himself.

 

Brent takes another step forward, his hand reaching out to try and grab Jon’s, but Jonathan jerks back and grabs his keys and wallet, sliding them into his pocket.

 

“Just figure out what you want,” Jonny said, not looking at Brent. Brent could have handled angry, glaring Jon, pissed off, hurt Jon, but out of everything that night, this was the most heartbreaking, the most hurtful thing. Because while they had fought before, and hurt each other, never has Jonathan turned away from him, never would he not meet his eyes.

 

And never has Brent not stopped him from leaving, his hand hanging awkwardly in the air as his front door shuts with what felt like finality on something Brent was never sure had ever started.

____________________________

 

Brent takes ages to think about it. He knows Duncs is aware something is off, something is wrong. He doesn’t say anything though, just lets Brent waffle shots and mire through the cloud of misery trying to overtake him. His head feels clouded on the best of days, and on the worst he forgets he has a stick in his hand, skates on the ice.

 

Jonny is being polite to him, and he’s spoken up quietly when the boys make a misogynistic comment, or a homophobic one. Brent stares at him the first time, but Jon just disappears down the tunnel. Jon is the type of person that has legends made about his leadership, and other people, captain's, like Andrew Ladd in Winnipeg, thinking _what would Jon do_ to help them in their first tentative steps into a leading roles. So those quiet words stop the jokes almost immediately.

 

Sharpy looks between them when they steadfastly ignore each other on the bench, and Hammer pats Jonny’s shoulder when Brent thinks he can finally talk to him, but ends up having to go sit down at his stall.

 

Duncs is concerned, Brent can tell, but all Brent knows is the sharp ache of missing someone he had part of his life for so long.

 

He tries to talk to Jon about it, once. He can’t stand the distance, the blatant unrest between them. He knows the guys are curious, and he knows Jonny is probably just trying to back off, to let Brent sort through his head without Jonny influencing him in any way, but that’s not what he wants. He wants warm hugs and shy smiles, carefree laughing and his bashful ducked head.

 

He can’t stand this simmering anger from Jonny, can’t stand his sad brown eyes.

 

So he grabs his arm before he leaves one day, hair still damp from the shower.

 

“Hey, can we talk?” He asks.

 

The wariness in Jonathan’s eyes breaks his heart. But Jonny stays. He nods, and lays down his bag, stands up, and steps back a bit from Brent, putting space between them that Brent desperately wants to bridge.

 

“What’s up?” Jon asks, tone just as guarded as his face.

 

“Look, I’m sorry okay? I hate this, I hate what we’ve become. I was shit that night, you don’t understand how sorry I am.”

 

He desperately wants Jonny to understand him, to understand what he wants, because Brent can’t voice it, never really could. He’s spent so much time hiding whatever this was from everybody, he started hiding it from himself, and he can’t acknowledge who Jonny is to him, can’t acknowledge it out loud, not yet. He feels like putting it to words now will shatter the fragile peace in the hallway, the peace that’s letting Jon stop and look at him again.

 

“What do you want Brent?” Jonny sighs.

 

“I –” Brent closes his mouth. “I want you to not be mad at me any longer. I don’t want us to be fighting.”

 

His stomach sinks when Jon’s face goes softer with pity, goes soft with a bone deep sadness that Brent can’t touch anymore, isn’t allowed to try and heal, not until Jon lets him back in. He feels himself floating, his hands shaking not knowing their purpose. If he can’t draw Jonny in, if he isn’t allowed to shield him from people, what were they supposed to do? But Brent has joined the rest of the world, the list of people. The people whom Jon would always love too much, the people who would always end up disappointing him.

 

So Brent waits, nauseous and regretting pulling Jon aside to try and feel a bit better. He isn’t allowed to comfort, to protect, not when he is the one hurting him.

 

“I’m not mad, Brent,” Jonathan said finally. His eyes are older than they should be, Brent thinks, even as panic flashes through him.

 

“You have to be,” he begs, “please, be mad at me.” Anger, he understands. Jonny’s been mad plenty of times before, been mad at Brent too many times to count. But this abject disappointment, the pity Jon has in his eyes, Brent can’t understand that. Doesn’t want to, because if he starts to understand it, then he’s lost his Jon, the one he had from before.

 

“I’m not mad,” Jonathan repeats. He sighs. “I don’t…I’m not mad okay? I just want you to make up your mind.”

 

And he walks away. Brent watches him, watches the man he thought could be his everything leave him behind, and he swallows down his regret, and his anguish, because he brought this upon himself. Hates himself a bit, because he’s relieved. Relieved that he understands now, with the final ultimatum, he understands that he’s loving a memory. He’s been living with the memory of the times they had before, but he understands now all Jon wants is a promise to make more memories moving forward.

 

He stays behind, doesn’t chase after Jon, because he can’t. Not when his head is jumbled, not when he’s watching both this sad, hurt Jonathan walk with the ghost of a 19 year old who never stopped needing him, a 20 year old with the weight of a franchise on his back. He stays behind because this new, strong Jonathan isn’t walking alone yet, and Brent can’t promise him everything that he is when a part of him is desperate for someone else, someone who doesn’t exist anymore.

 

And then the party happens.

________________________________________

 

It’s clear from the get-go that there are some guys who are going to get smashed. Jon, being both the captain, and particularly picky with what he eats due to his food allergies, decides to stay sober.

 

It’s clear from the start how this night will go, and Brent is quietly seething when he turns out to be right. Because as much as he _knows_ he was the one to push Jon away, and he’s been the one stalling in trying to figure out how to tell him that all he wants is Jon, Stanley Cups and Championship rings be damned, he most definitely does _not_ want this asshole hanging all over him.

 

Shaw is annoying anyway, with his constant chatter and hard checks, but Brent figures proving yourself was exhausting, and Shaw talks to keep his energy up.

 

But after who knows how many drinks, Shaw’s arm is around Jonny’s neck, and his mouth is at his ear. And Jonny is smiling like he did _before_ Brent broke his heart, and _none of this is okay_. Brent’s hand tightens around his bottle, and he misses Duncs sliding into the seat next to him.

 

“I’m not exactly sure what happened between you two, but I can guess.” Duncs said easily. “But everyone is going to know what’s going on if you punch Shaw for touching your boy.”

 

“He’s not mine anymore,” Brent says morosely, staring into the swirling foam in his beer.

 

“Right. That’s why he stares at you all the time.” Duncs said dryly.

 

Brent’s head shoot sup, and his eyes went back to where Jon was. He isn’t there.

 

“What?” His heart starts pounding. He knows he is being irrational, Jon is grown, he is sober, and he is _fine_ , but where – oh. Jon’s arm is around Shaw’s waist, helping him out the door, a tiny smile on his face.

 

“Oh.”

 

Duncs is watching him. “You want to crash at mine?” He asks carefully.

 

Brent barely remembers nodding, barely remembers getting into the spare bed. All he remembers was how Andy was leaning into Jonny, and how Jon was holding him there, holding Shaw like he could have been holding Brent, if only he wasn’t such an idiot.

 

All he remembers is his heart, aching, aching while the image of Jonathan helping Shaw out. Just one Jonathan, not a gangly teenager trying to fit in, or a new captain doing what he thought he should, just the one Jonathan, doing his best like he always had.

 

It is at next practise, when Brent is more morose than ever, that he hears it. The new guys tend to ignore Brent a bit, his presence in the locker room muted and dull compared to the year before. They barely notice him. Which was why they are talking so candidly.

 

“Where the hell did you take off to last night, man?”

 

Brent freezes at the question. He keeps wrapping his stick as unobtrusively as possible.

 

“Captain took me home,” Shaw said cheerfully. Laughter from the young guys, ribbing from Bickell, white knuckles from Brent.

 

“Have a good time then?” Brandon teases.

 

Shaw didn’t laugh and joke like Brent expects. Instead, there was a silence. “Oh my God, you didn’t actually hook up?” Brandon sounds horrified.

 

“What?” Shaw squeaks, “No!” Brent almost chokes on a sigh of relief. “No, God, just, he’s really good to talk to. I was so drunk, and so embarrassing, and he just took me back to my place, and got me sorted. Gave me water, and laid out pills for the morning. He slept on the couch to make sure I was okay.”

 

“Really?” Another soft voice.

 

“Yeah, Jesus.” Shaw gives an embarrassed laugh. “I like, cried and everything. I got so drunk because I got in this argument with Chaunette, and Jon just sat there, and listened, and let me cry, and I was so embarrassed in the morning, but he just…he had eggs, and toast, and this smoothie. Like, I don’t know.”

 

Brent stares at where the tape on his stick is abandoned, messy and wrapped poorly.

 

“I just think he’s the best Captain I could have, you know?” Shaw is saying. “Like he’s more than my Captain now, he’s my friend, but whatever you want to call him, he was just the person I needed to get my head sorted on straight. He was just what I needed, and I was really glad that I had him.”

 

The others start ribbing Andy for his words, but Brent turns his stick slowly. He was right, he realises. Brent is having trouble pulling Jonathan the captain apart from Jonathan his boyfriend. The past Jonathan’s that were so obvious about their need for him from someone that should be an equal, his lover. He realised now he never had to.

 

He never needed to separate them, because he understands now. That Jon isn’t a bunch of different people; that he is looking out for his friends whether they are at the bar or on the ice, whether he is 19 or 23. And Brent is so, _so_ desperately in love with him. Him, as he is now. Him, Jonathan, the culmination of all his parts, the good and the bad. He feels light, like he could float away. Jon can still be his, they can do this. As long as they talk it out, as long as Brent catches him, holds him, and promises to never let him go again, they can do it.

 

He smiles, ready to grab his captain, his friend, and the person he couldn’t imagine living a day without when - “Seabs, can I talk to you for a minute?” He almost jumps out of his skin.

 

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes, clutching his chest. Coach Q looks fairly unimpressed. Seabs nods, following him into his office.

 

“Look, kid, I know you’ve been having a rough time of it lately,” Q said, moustache quivering uncomfortably, “but I wanted to know if you were alright.”

 

Brent beams at him, smile splitting his face. Q looks a little scared. “I’m great, I’m going to be so good.” Brent promises. “This is it, coach, this is going to be such a good year.”

 

Quenneville looks vaguely alarmed. “I’m…glad to hear it.” He said finally. “Okay, you keep in mind I’m always available if you need to talk.”

 

“Oh I will,” Brent promises. “Talking is _always_ a good solution.” He grins again. “Right on, let’s play hockey!”

 

He pushes open the door, and even Duncs looks wary at his smile, but he doesn’t stop grinning. Not even when he realizes he had to re-tape all his sticks.

____________________________

 

They didn’t talk about it at first so much as Brent follows Jonny home, then proceeds to kiss him for what seems like hours. Brent figures he might have gotten the message after Brent drops to his knees, and gasps Jon’s name when he comes, but lack of communication was something that ruined it before, so talking is to follow.

 

Jonathan twists his hands nervously until Brent catches them in between his.

 

“I want to do this,” the words tumble out. “I never apologized for what I said, I didn’t mean it…well, the bit about stopping what guys were saying, and that I did. But the rest, I didn’t. And I was so jealous whenever someone else got your attention and I was trying to separate you in hockey from you at home, which was stupid because you never expected that from me. And I love you so goddamn much and I just want you with me however you’ll take me.”

 

Jon’s mouth is hanging open again, but Brent plows through. “I was getting frustrated because you acted like you had this duty when you came home, but I realized that after you took Shawzy back home that it’s not an act, it’s not you trying, which I knew deep down but I was trying to fool myself, because if you were trying to be better like that, then you weren’t just leaving me all the time to help out someone else because you wanted to.”

 

“I never –”

 

“I know,” Brent interrupts. “You love the team, and these guys, and you’re willing to do anything for them, and I love that about you, I do. It took me a while to come to terms with it, but I do. And I love how passionate you are, and how you’re so good with people, and how brave you are, and how you’ve put up with all this shit for years, and I love you, full stop.” Brent’s eyes were wet now, but Jonny’s lips were pulled in the sweetest smile, so he didn’t care. He would make a fool of himself every day for the rest of his life if it meant Jonny kept smiling like that.

 

“I just love you, Jonny.” He said helplessly.

 

Jonny lets out a little laugh, and suddenly Brent’s arms are full, a warm body wrapped around his, soft breaths puffing at his neck.

 

“Me too.” He chokes. “Yeah, me too.”

___________________________________

 

They end up being pretty obvious about each other while still being super lowkey. The rest of the guys figure it out pretty quick, probably because of what happens at the end of a bad game: Jonny is being kind, his voice encouraging. It was a loss, but they didn’t exactly feel that way after Jon outlines things they’d learned, things that work, things that don’t.

 

“It’s a process,” he said sagely, “and I think that this game ultimately taught us a lot of things we wouldn’t know otherwise, and that’s going to help us win next game.”

 

Brent has a weird look on his face, and Jonny went to grab a towel for his shower when Brent stands and strides over to him. Jonny is turning, eyebrows raised in what seem like confusion when Brent grabs him and pins him to the wall and kisses him.

 

The locker room is the quietest it has ever been until there was a laugh, and Duncan sighs, and they went right back to normal.

___________________________________

 

It is obvious for years, when Jon moves in with Brent, and they both age, and grow up.It is obvious in the playoffs that year, when Brent pats Jonny’s head and breathes out ‘ _I love you_ ’, and when Jon grabs Brent’s arm in the All Star game, asking, “Can we go together?” They revolve around each other easily, like one is a planet and the other was stuck in their gravity. Pulling away, spending time with friends, but always, always staying grounded with each other.

 

And Jonny doesn’t really need help anymore with being Captain, he stresses out still, but has figured out how to deal with it. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t stretch out on the bed he shares with Brent and talks about his worries, and it doesn’t mean that Brent doesn’t hug him still, just because it makes them both feel a little bit better.

 

And Brent still loves the vegetable garden out back, and he still loves Jonny’s grumpy expressions in the morning. But now he can tell Jonny, with a fond expression he doesn’t hide, and warm eyes. Now it makes sense that when they go out as a team, Jonny is the only one Brent likes leaning into him when he’s drunk.

 

Brent doesn’t think Jonny needs his surety in his leadership, his confidence in who Jonny is anymore, not when he’s won three cups, two Olympic golds, a Conn Smythe, a Selke, and Mark Messier award. But Jonny still comes to him, and leans into him sometimes, and figures out to breath properly again, and Brent always smiles.

 

And Jonny reminds Brent that he has to speak, that he has to let go of the walls he is building and rest for a bit, to let someone in. He reminds Brent what the true meaning of team is, reminds him that it’s the two of them together aiming for the stars. Brent breathes that Jonny’s always been a star. Jonathan grins and whispers that Brent’s the one that’s keeping him burning.

 

Jonny will always smile at Brent, and Brent will always relax around Jon.

 

Because Jonny is young, and beautiful, and strong, and he can have anyone in this city, in this country or any other, but he chooses him. And Brent knows that there are other people out there who would be happy with him, but when he gets a brilliant smile in his direction, or gets a warm hand in his, or a shy glance, a flush still as deep as the day they met, Brent knows he doesn’t want anyone else. Grins, because history has been written for this team from the day they drafted number 19, Jonathan Toews, but for them, for Tazer and Seabs, for Brent and Jonny, well -- history is still being written, and he can’t wait to see where it’s going to take them next.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the ever patient Sarah for reading this over :))))) You're the best!


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